Without A Beat
by Breakmedownx09
Summary: 9/11 Spashley


Spencer's POVSeptember 9, 2001

Ashley says hesitantly, "So I was thinking about New York last night and I figured-"

I hastily cut her off, "Would you just stop talking about it?"

She waits a few moments to let me cool down. She has a face like a little kid who was rejected on the playground. She finally says, "Ever since the offer came up, you've been doing everything to not talk about it. You haven't said anything."

I violently flip the page in the magazine almost causing it to tear in half. I angrily say, "I already told you how I feel."

She snatches the magazine, which was once protecting my face from hers. She looks deep into my eyes and seriously says, "No you didn't Spencer. I know you don't want me to go."

I beam my eyes straight back at her, almost expressing disgust in this conversation. I yell, "Ashley, just go! I want you to go. I want you to have the best life that you can and if that means moving to New York, then go!" I see her terrified face, but I don't stop. I grudgingly say, "We're done." I pick myself up from my seat to walk out of the loft.

She stops me in my tracks. She asks in a heartbreaking tone, "What do you mean we're done?"

I turn around sharply and declare, "Ashley, I'm so tired of hearing about New York. Every time the subject is brought up, it reminds me that as soon as you board that plane, we're flying away to oblivion. I'm breaking us up before New York does."

She pouts, "What are you talking about? We're not going to break up."

I yell, "New York's 3000 miles away! How do you expect that to work out?"

She tries to assure me, "Because I love you and you love me."

I lie, only to not make this any harder than it is, "I'm not so sure of that anymore." My heart breaks as soon as I see Ashley's despaired face. I choke back on my tears that were anxiously waiting to fall. I can't show Ashley this is hurting me. That will only make it much harder. I breathe out, "Goodbye." I excuse myself out of the loft, leaving Ashley in a state of confusion with nothing but tears to keep her company.

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September 11, 2001

I wake up at six to get ready for the day. I have no responsibilities for today: no classes, no work (unbelievable) and no one planning to stop by (aka Ashley). Life's good.

I open the blinds, allowing the sun to radiate it's light throughout the dorm. It's the sky is so gorgeous today, even though it's barely morning yet. There's not a cloud in the sky.

My roommate sleeps on her bed like a rock. Sometimes I check on her to make sure she's still breathing because she looks like a corpse.

I can't help but notice the flashing red light of the answering machine, glowing out of the corner of my eye. I must've been close to dead when I was sleeping because I always hear the phone ring—even in my sleep. I push the button on the machine to play. _One new message is in your mailbox. Main menu: To review your message, press—_Ashley begins to speak in a sullen tone_, "Hey, Spencer. It's just me, letting you know I'm leaving for New York in a couple minutes. I knew you wanted me to call you to let you know when I was leaving, so I decided to keep that promise. Umm… my meeting is at 8:30 and it'll probably be over at 10:30. I'm assuming. I'm not really sure how these things go." _She lets out a light chuckle. "_If you want to call me, you know my number and I should be in my apartment the rest of the day, unpacking."_ She pauses a second. "_Well, I'm going to stop rambling and let you go. Goodbye Spencer." _

I instantly get irritated with myself because our relationship ended on a bad note—a terribly bad note. It's all because of me—because I was afraid to get hurt. I was afraid to get hurt, but I hurt someone else in the process. Someone who I really love. Someone who really loves me.

I clench my teeth and yell, "God!" I storm out of the room to get some air. I don't need to figure things out. I know I love her more than anything—period. There's no ifs, ands or buts. My life is nothing without her. She _is_ my life. So then why did I tell her to go?

I hear a lot of chatter as soon as I leave my dorm. The noise gets louder and scarier as I walk towards the heart of it. It's an abnormal amount of noise for this time of the day. I turn the corner and instantly see a mob. I notice Kyla at the back of the mob. I run up to her and ask, "What's going on?"

Her eyes are wide and in shock as she says solemnly, "A plane ran into the North tower of the World Trade Center."

I breathe out, "What? How the hell could that have happened? There's an infinite amount of space to fly and they manage to hit a building?" I stop myself to realize what she just said. _The World Trade Center_. I say as I collapse to the floor, "Oh my God."

Kyla looks at me seriously, "What? What is it Spencer?"

I yell out, "Ashley's there! She's in New York! She's in one of those towers!"

Her eyes grow larger. She says, "Oh my God Spencer. Which one?"

I yell, only in desperation, "I don't know! I don't know! I don't…" I shake my head back and forth as I lay my head on my knees. I feel Kyla's arms wrap around me to ease me. I pick up my head and sniffle. I say, "Maybe it was the South tower."

A second later we hear gasps, screams, and cries. We pick ourselves up to see what's going on. The mob of people is like a can of packed sardines. I push my way through everyone to get my view. Kyla squeezes in behind me and follows.

After squeezing through, pushing, and maybe punching a few, we finally reach the TV. The news station announces the South tower has been hit with a plane. They replay clips of both towers getting hit and the planes instantly blowing up. It's a horrific scene for all. Even the newscasters are in terror and shock. Kyla steps out of the crowd a few seconds after me. She watches the news and can't help but gasp in terror.

I ram through the mass of people to get back to my dorm. I run into my room, continually sobbing. I grab the phone and have a hard time dialing her number because my tears are blurring my vision. I finally get the number into the phone. Her phone rings once then goes to voicemail. I wait for the machine to finish and then I record my message. I sniffle and calm myself. I begin, "Hey, Ash. It's Spencer calling. I just watched the news and both of the World Trade Center's towers have been hit." The tears start flowing. "I'm just really worried right now because I know you're there. I need to know you're okay so if you get this message, please call me. Please. Goodbye." I hang up the phone and immediately start dialing my parent's house. The ringing goes a few times and then Mom picks up and groggily says, "Hello?"

I can't hold the tears back, no matter how hard I try because I can feel something bad is going to happen—something a lot worse than what's going on already. I cry out, "Mom?"

She yells back, but only because she's frightened at how I'm crying, "What?"

All I can utter out is, "Turn on the news—any of them."

_I hear in the background, "Arthur turn on the TV. Arthur!" _

"_All right, all right. What's the rush?" he asks. _

"_I don't know. Spencer just told me to turn on the TV," Mom says. _

_I hear the click of the TV go and both my parents gasp and utter, "Oh my God." _

I say, "Mom?"

_She waits a few moments to pull her attention from the TV to me. She says, "What honey?" _

My voice shakes as I say, "Ashley's in one of the towers."

_Mom gasps at the other end. She asks quickly, "Did you call her?"_

I exhale deeply and say, "Yea I did, but it went straight to voicemail."

Mom lets a few moments go by, telling me she has no idea how to comprehend this, let alone help me comprehend all of this. _She finally speaks. She tries to assure me by saying, "Well, that doesn't have to mean anything, Spencer." She pauses again. "It's going to be all right Spencer, I promise."_

I sniffle and say, "Okay." I try to calm myself down to have some sort of control of my behavior. This has to be a terrible nightmare. It just has to be. I'm going to wake up and be in Ashley's arms and everything will be better.

"_Spencer?" Mom's voice projects through the phone. She snaps me back into reality. The reality I don't want to be a part of at all. "Are you still there?"_

I take one deep breath and say, "Yea I'm still here."

_She rushes her words, "Well I'm gonna let you go just in case Ashley's trying to call. Bye Spencer and let me know if she calls or anything, please." _

I sniffle and breathe out, "Yes, of course I will. Goodbye."

I hang up the phone to turn around to see Carmen staring right at me. She looks at me with a more than confused face. She asks, "What's going on Spencer?"

I walk over to grab a tissue from the box. I wipe the excess gunk off of my noise and then inform, "Two planes just ran into the towers in the World Trade Center and Ashley's there."

She breathes heavily, almost to the point of hyperventilation. She asks, "Oh my God. Are you serious?"

I look at her seriously, but act sarcastically, "No I'm fucking lying to you because I think it's a joke to pass around information like this."

She waits a few seconds and then quickly jumps out of her bed to storm towards the phone. I observe her closely without asking anything as she dials a phone number. I can feel the anxiety radiating off of her because she isn't getting an answer on the other line.

Finally, someone picks up in the background because Carmen starts to speak, "Mom? Have you talked to George?" All I can hear is muttering of words through the phone. I can't make out any words clearly though. Carmen continues, "You haven't heard anything? Have you watched the-? Okay. Okay. Please call me if you hear anything. Bye."

Carmen hangs up the phone and lets out one, long sigh. I ask, "What's wrong?"

She runs her hand through her hair, trying to figure out her next move. She replies, "My brother works near the towers, but my parents haven't heard anything from him."

I don't usually have pessimistic thoughts, but I think this tragedy is going to get a lot worse than it already is, but I don't say that because things are bad enough as it is. I don't need to pass around a negative vibe throughout the whole campus. Instead, I say, "George will be fine and so will Ashley and the rest of the people that can be saved from this." I pause for a few seconds. "We just have to wait and hope for the best."

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_An hour later_

I haven't left my dorm, even though I need food because I have yet to eat breakfast. I can't eat. My stomach feels so full from feeling terrible about this whole situation. I don't want to watch the television because it'll just cause me to cry continuously.

I don't know what to do. I don't know what to feel. I don't know what to think. I don't even know if I should have hope, but Mom would punish me for even thinking of not having some hope.

I feel terrible. I feel so guilty that I told Ashley to go. If I didn't, she wouldn't have gone. I didn't want her to go, but I thought it was for her own good so that she could get going with her music career because that's what she's wanted to do ever since she was a little kid. But it only ended her in this big mess. I wish I didn't feel so guilty, but it's my fault she's there, with her life in jeopardy.

I rub my hands over my face profusely and then look around the room. I'm isolated in this room because Carmen left to stare at one of the TVs in the cafeteria. I need to do something to help me relax or not be so anxious right now even though she should be the only thing on my mind right now, considering I might never see her again. I gotta stop being negative.

I sit up from my bed to stretch my legs out a little bit. I suddenly hear rapid knocks on the door at once. I hear a familiar voice, "Spencer! You there?"

I run to the door because her voice sounds like she's in a hurry to get something out. I quickly open the door and ask, "What's wrong? W-what?"

She seems out of breath or just hysterical right now, but without tears. She says, "The uh…" She looks down at the floor to try to get her words together.

I demand, "Spit it out Kyla."

"The South tower just collapsed."

All I can do is breathe out, "What?"

"And they think it was a terrorist attack."

My mouth drops considerably and I say, "What the… is this supposed to be the end of the world or something? This is horrific."

Again, the sudden news doesn't hit me until a few moments after the initial statement. "Ashley!" My body drops to the floor as my brain shuts down.

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"_We got a female, Caucasian, fifty-three years of age. Fainted and possible head injury," an EMT speaks through his walkie-talkie. _

_I open my eyes slowly. The ambulance is nothing short of a blinding bright white. The oxygen mask is strapped tightly to my face, making sure I get an adequate amount of air through my lungs, heart and brain, but I'm pretty sure one of them is failing to work after hearing the tower collapsed. _

_I close my eyes to not damage them permanently from the lighting. The blaring sound of the ambulance prevents me from reaching a calm state. _

_He speaks again, "Yes. Female, fifty-three, Caucasian and fainted approximately five minutes ago." _

_What am I doing here? What happened? Where's Ashley? _

_I dip my head down as far as it can go to examine my body. I raise my hand to view it. My once smooth, moist hands are now rough and full of dryness. What is going on?_

_Unwillingly, I begin to hyperventilate. My heart beats faster than my mind can handle. Suddenly, a black canvas-like image surrounds my view and I lose consciousness. _

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I slowly wake up to the smell of pepper up my nose. Carmen practically has it in my nose, causing me to cough profusely to somehow blow away the smell.

After I get my eyes open wide enough to see my surroundings. I'm in my dorm and on my bed. I ask, "What happened?"

Kyla informs me, "You passed out as soon as I told you about the tower."

Carmen interferes, "Yea, so I quickly came to the rescue with the nifty pepper." She smiles, trying to cheer me up in some way.

I say sarcastically, "Yea, thanks so much for that, Carmen. I'm gonna be shooting out pepper for the next few days." I purposefully blow air through my nose to get the pepper smell out. After a few moments, I give up and look at Kyla. I ask, "How long was I out?"

Kyla glances at her watch and then says, "Hmm. I'd say about ten minutes."

I quickly sit up and ask, "Oh my God. Did Ashley call?" Kyla expresses disappointment, but nothing else. "My mom?" Same expression is continued on her face.

I close my eyes to help ease myself. I take in slow, deep breaths to avoid crying. "Any news about the towers?"

Carmen answers, "No. Not to my knowledge." She looks over at Kyla. Kyla nods her head in agreement to Carmen's statement.

Kyla slowly pushes a glass of water towards me. She says pleasantly, "Take some please. You're going to need it." I obey her wishes and take a swig of the water. The water replenishes my body, especially after crying so long. I give her back the glass and look at my watch. _7:19._ Kyla asks, "Have you eaten yet?"

"No."

"Okay, then let's go get you some food. You want to go to the diner?"

I need to get out of here before I have a nervous breakdown. "Yes."

"Okay then let's go."

I grab my jacket on the way out and we head towards the diner. It's only a couple blocks away so whenever we go, we just walk over.

Give or take, ten minutes later, we arrive at the diner. As soon as I walk in, I notice the TV has the news on. And every news channel has the coverage on the towers, but this one is different than all the others. This one is replaying the clip of the North tower collapsing. Before I know it, I'm collapsing at the same speed of the tower. My fall echoes in the place as Carmen and Kyla say, "Spencer? Spencer!"

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_I wake up once again, but this time in a hospital. I'm connected to all sorts of wires that lead to so many machines. I see a male figure to the right of me out of the corner of my eye. He's tall with short, black hair, but wrinkles are scattered all over his face. I've never met him before. I say quickly, "Where's Ashley? I need her. Where is she?" _

_He answers confusedly, "Who's Ashley?" _

_I say rudely, "Stop lying to me, I know you know where she is so just tell me."_

_He asks calmly, "Spencer, who is Ashley?" _

_I ask as I wiggle in the bed, trying to get out of here, "How do you know my name?"_

_He says confusedly, "It's me. It's your husband, Spencer." He rests his hand on my arm to ease me._

_I fight him off. I start screaming, "Where's Ashley! Get her in here!" My heart races to an uncontrollable point and I, once again, pass out. _

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Pepper being stuck up my nose makes me get back to life again. I'm leaned up against the seat of a bar chair with Kyla and Carmen supporting me as well. I open my eyes slowly to view my surroundings. Not only are Carmen and Kyla staring me down, waiting for a response, but a whole group of waiters and customers doing the same thing. I hate being the center of attention, especially when something like this happens. And to make matters worse, my body suddenly jerks forward, coughing violently to the point where vomit projects out of my mouth.

Carmen and Kyla jump away as the vomit splashes onto the floor. Kyla releases one of her hands from my body to hold my hair back. After a couple more projections, my body is clear of throw up. I bring my head back up and Carmen quickly grabs a paper towel to wipe my face of the remains. Carmen says to Kyla, "Let's get her into a booth."

They slowly guide me into a booth as my head bobbles around. The combination of not eating anything, seeing the towers collapse, and throwing up is not a good one at all. I don't prefer it for anyone. Kyla kneels down to look me straight in the eyes. She asks calmly, "Spencer, do you think you're going to throw up anymore?"

I shake my head slowly.

"Then you need to eat something."

I utter, "I'm not hungry."

Carmen demands, "Spencer, either you eat or we're bringing you to the hospital."

I become alert and eager to eat in a matter of seconds after hearing that. I say, "Okay fine. I'll try to eat, but if I can't get it down, I can't get it down."

Carmen knows that threatening to bring me to the hospital if I don't do something is a way to get me to do whatever she wishes. I absolutely hate hospitals. Nothing about it seems inviting so I refuse to go at all. When I was younger, I did everything to not go to the hospital. If my pediatrician wasn't in for some reason, but I was sick, my mom wouldn't bring me to the hospital because I refused to go. Thank God I was never bad enough to have to go to the hospital.

I ask like I'm a little kid, "Can I at least wash my mouth out?"

Carmen says while making a disgusted face, "Yea. That's probably a good idea. You don't need to be eating your vomit."

Kyla says, "Thanks for the image Carmen. What a pal you are."

I leave them to bicker at each other while I go to rinse my mouth out.

I walk directly into the bathroom and towards the sinks. I turn the faucet on high and grab a handful of water and throw it into my mouth. I squish it around for a little and spit it back out. I repeat this process a few times to make sure I clean my mouth as well as possible.

I stand there, looking at my pale skin in the mirror. My face is haggard and my eyes are hollowed in from all of the stress. The sound of the running water hitting the sink and immediately draining into the piping system makes my head reach a calm state. I close my eyes while my hands are on the counter, supporting my body. My heartbeat is slowing down considerably. I try my best to keep my body active to walk back to the booth because I know what's coming.

I struggle to walk to the door and as soon as I lay my hand on the handle, my limp body twists to the ground and I'm unconscious.

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_30 minutes later _

Without opening my eyes, I can tell I'm in a car—the back seat preferably. I can feel every bump and pothole the driver manages to drive over. I hear a familiar voice in the background, "Yes. We're bringing her over now, Mrs. Carlin. Okay see you soon."

I open my eyes and turn my head towards Kyla. I ask, "Where are we going?"

Kyla answers, "We're brining you back home. Carmen and I feel it would be better for you to go home and stay with your parents."

I don't fight off or even say a word because I honestly have no strength to do either. It hurts to keep my eyes open so I slowly close them and try to get back to a calm state.

The background sounds silence in my head and then all of a sudden, I hear a feminine voice say, "Save me, Spencer."

I jump up and ask, "What? Who said that?"

Carmen quickly turns her head back towards me, but then puts her attention to the street. She asks, "What, Spencer? Nobody said anything."

I say rudely, "Stop playing with me. One of you just said 'Save me, Spencer' so who was it?"

Kyla and Carmen look at each other confusedly. By the looks of it, neither of them had said it nor heard it. Kyla assures, "Spencer, we didn't say anything. I promise."

I must be going senile.

***

They support me as they walk me into my house and lay me on the couch. I have little to no strength in my body as of now. I rest my body comfortably on the couch, as I focus on to my surroundings. Carmen says to Kyla, "I'll go grab her stuff really quick."

Kyla nods her head and then turns to Mom and Dad. She informs, "She's not doing well at all. She's being crying ever since she got the news. I don't blame her, but I wish there was something I could do. I just feel so helpless." She pauses for a little. "Uhm…she hasn't had any food even though Carmen and I persisted that she put something in her mouth. But she managed to throw up a considerable amount for an empty stomach. And as you can see, she's worn out so we figured it would be best for her to be home, under your care, Mrs. Carlin."

Mom nods her head as the information is thrown at her. She corrects Kyla, "Please, call me Paula. You've known me long enough to call me Paula, Kyla."

Kyla says innocently, "Okay. Sorry."

Seconds later, Carmen rushes in with a duffel bag full of my belongings. She says as she drops the bag next to me, "Here you go."

Dad chimes in, "Well we'll take good care of her. And don't hesitate to stop by—either of you because as soon as we get Spencer better, she's going to want her best friends here to support her."

Carmen speaks, "Yea that's no problem, Mr. C. Goodbye." They excuse themselves out of the house as Dad closes the door behind them.

That's what Ashley used to call him. My tears ducts are put into use as I silently begin to cry.

Dad sighs as he turns his body back to look at me. He instantly sees me crying and begs, "Spencer, talk to me. Don't hold it in. None of it."

I sniffle and wipe the tears away from my face, though I cry out, "She's not coming back. She's gone. That's it. I'll never see her again." I pour my heart out again for the millionth time.

Dad replies quickly, "Don't think that. You don't know for sure that for sure so we can't jump to conclusions."

I cry, "Dad, I saw the towers. They collapsed along with all of those people in it. And everyone that was at the bottom…there's just no chance she's still alive."

He says in a sympathetic tone, "Spencer, listen to me. They're going to do everything they can to find as many survivors. All we can do is pray for a call from her. But for the mean time, you need to eat something."

I sniffle and wipe away the fallen tears, once again. I agree, "Okay." Dad helps me stand up to walk into the kitchen to grab something to eat.

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_The next day _

After three big meals and a full night of sleep, I'm ready to get out. As soon as I wake up—around 10:00a.m.—I pack my things together to get onto the next plane to New York.

I run down the stairs and into the kitchen to call the airlines to get a flight to New York, but my parents stop me in my tracks. They begin to interrogate me as soon as they see how much of in a rush I am. Mom asks, "Where do you think you're going?"

I inform, "I'm taking the next plane out to New York."

I force my way towards the phone, but Dad jumps in front of it. He says, "No you're not."

I persist, "I need to go. I need to find Ashley. She needs me." I try to push Dad away, but he's a lot stronger than I am.

I raises his voice, "I'm not letting you go to New York. There is no use for that."

I push him a little harder. "Yes there is. I need to find Ashley. She's there I just need to find her." I use all my might to flail my arms at Dad, but he grabs them, in an nonviolent way, to control myself.

He says, "Spencer, calm down." He grudges as he tries to control my arms without hurting himself or me.

I yell out, "How am I supposed to calm down? Ashley's in danger and it's all because of me! I told her to go! I yelled at her to go and then I broke up with her. It's all my fault. It's all my…" I break down crying because it's all I know how to do right now. I feel so guilty for what happened just a couple days before September 11th. MY future was in my hands and I managed to give her the wrong future. If I weren't so unselfish, she would've stayed here, in L.A., and not have gone to New York right now. Why wasn't I a little more selfish?

Dad feels for me. I can feel it in his touch and his voice. He says, "Oh honey. You can't blame yourself for Ashley's getting into this disaster. It was her decision to go and you were being a good person by letting her go to work on her music career. You did nothing wrong, Spencer."

I scream, "Then why do I feel so terrible? Why do I feel like all of this wouldn't have happened if I would've just told her to stay in L.A.?"

Mom sits there, looking at the two of us with a face that is begging to cry for her daughter. Dad answers, "Because it's normal to blame it on yourself in tragedies, especially in life-dangering ones."

I calm down a little bit. Dad has the magic touch for things like this. I say, "I need her. I need her to be with me and tell me everything's going to be okay. I miss her. She's my everything."

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_That night_

Throughout the day, I forced food down my esophagus and into my stomach. Some of it did remain in my body, but the rest of it made its way back up and onto whatever surface was in front of me at the time. All of the crying is making my stomach feel full, but the scary thing is I haven't eaten half of my daily requirements for food for the past couple of days. I physical can't because I mentally can't. It makes me sick to watch the news, waiting for a call every minute, but then getting disappointed. I need to hear her voice again, telling me she's okay and will be by my side the next second.

She is the one who can make the worst day possible become the best day just by being in her presence. I need that right now or at least a sign, telling me she'll be here, wrapping me in her arms. Please.

Tears streaming down my face soak up my pillow, causing me to flip my body to the other side. I need to go to sleep otherwise my parents will know I was up late, crying. I won't even have to tell them. They'll automatically know by my looks.

I take in one, long sniffle as I quickly wipe all the tears away from my face. I close my eyes and take in long, deep breaths to subdue myself.

A few minutes of keeping my eyes completely shut, my subconscious hears Ashley's voice, "Spencer, I'm here. I'll never leave you."

My subconscious continues to control me as I feel Ashley's arm wrap around my waist as she scoots her body closer to mine. I feel her breathing down my neck, making the chills scatter throughout my body. Ashley's voice begins to sing the song she always would whenever I was depressed over something. Ashley sings in a calming tone, "When my eyes meet yours, the tears wash away. They wash away. From you."

My conscious flips my body, looking for Ashley on the other side, but once again, I'm disappointed. I say, "She's still alive. I know it."

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_The next morning _

I wake up extremely early so that I can sneak out of the house and onto the next plane to New York. I pack a few things so that whatever I bring, I can just put in the overhead and not risk losing my luggage. I tiptoe down the stairs and right into the kitchen.

The first thing I look at when I step into the kitchen is the table because if they are up, they're going to be sitting right there, reading the newspaper and drinking their coffee.

They're not there, but I should've known that without looking because I would've smelled the fresh-brewed coffee all the way upstairs. I walk over to the drawer with the phonebook for the airport's number. I find it within a few moments and I quickly jot it down on a piece of paper.

I close up the book and hide any evidence of me being here. They'll have to figure out where I went by themselves. I turn around and walk to the phone. I pick up the phone and wait for the dial tone to begin dialing.

An operator picks up immediately and interrogates me for my information so that I can catch a plane.

All of the information is put into the computer and then she asks me for my credit card number to charge it to that. I begin to speak as I turn around to see a male figure staring at me, "It's 321…" I pause like a little kid who got caught doing something she shouldn't have. "Could you hold on one second?" I put the table onto the phone slowly. I try to make this not so…intense. I say, "Hiya Dad."

He asks in a calm tone, "Spencer, what are you doing?"

I'm persistent in my tone, "I'm going to New York."

He replies quickly, "No you're not."

I get angry immediately, " Dad, I'm 18—almost 19—you can't control me anymore so if I want to go to New York, then I'm gonna go."

He persists as he heightens his voice, "I won't let you."

I say, "Dad, I heard her last night. She was laying right next to me, with her arms wrapped around-"

Dad interrupts, "That's impossible."

I explain, "I know it sounds impractical, but I swear she was with me and she was singing the song she always used to and she said to save her a couple days ago. She's alive—I know it. My heart wouldn't be beating if she were dead."

He looks at me with a puppy dogface with nothing to say. Finally, after a few moments of staring me down, he sighs and says, "I'm not letting you go alone. Tell the operator to hold for a second. I'll go get ready and I'll buy the tickets."

I let out a sigh of relief. I couldn't be happier. I proclaim, "Thank you so much Dad." I run up to him and give him a big, wholesome hug right before he runs upstairs to pack some belongings.

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The whole ride on the plane, I was completely quiet. I had my Walkman hooked up to my ears with Ashley's CD in the player. I didn't cry once. To be honest, I didn't want to cry over her anymore. I'm at the point where I know she's still alive—I just need to find her and crying won't help me get to her.

Her music kept me subdued, but also very alert and ready to search for her. By the time I got off of the plane, I was more than ready to pick up debris from the buildings and throw them away—like the Hulk—to find Ashley.

Right now, Dad and I are in the backseat of a taxicab on our way into downtown Manhattan. Actually, I think we've arrived because the driver is pulling over. Dad takes out his wallet and pays the nice gentleman before exiting the vehicle.

I step out of the car and instantly see hundreds of flyers taped onto walls and windows. It makes me sick to my stomach to see all of those people are "missing" and the fact that their family and friends might never see them again. I close the door and follow closely behind Dad. We subconsciously walk slowly to view a good majority of the flyers that are posted on the walls.

Because my mind is sucked into the pictures and the lives that were taken by this horrendous act, I forget—for just a second—why I am even here in the first place. I feel like a tourist who is about to rummage through a previous disaster to find the cause of the event because I feel like I'm not personally connected with event, but I am. I'm very connected because someone who I dearly love is in danger of dying from this. Why do I feel so out-of-body right now?

Dad snaps me out of my concentration on both my thoughts and the pictures by saying, "Come on, honey, let's go. It's right up this street."

The sidewalks and streets are isolated from people. Very few pedestrians are out and about, but there are many ambulances, fire trucks, and police cars scattering the streets. Those are the only noise heard around the area.

Ground zero is only a couple blocks from where we were dropped off so we arrive within a few minutes. A blockade of police cars and policemen are preventing outside forces from entering (aka people frantically trying to find their loved ones or family members).

We walk up very casually to a policeman and he immediately says rudely, "Sir, you're not allowed to enter this area." I understand how they have to protect the public from entering Ground zero, but there was no need to be that rude to someone who hadn't started any trouble.

Dad simply takes out his badge to show him he's a certified Los Angles police officer. He says calmly, "Officer Arthur Carlin. I'm here to help out in anyway, shape or form." Dad reaches out his hand to be friendly to the officer.

The officer looses up a bit and shakes Dad's hand. He replies, "Officer Richard Stevens. Your service is very well appreciated and you can definitely chip in, but she can't."

My mouth seems to drop in disgust that he thinks I can't do anything because I'm a girl, I bet. Sexist pig. Well, that kind of goes well because his nickname is Di-

Dad asks, "She's with me."

Stevens replies sharply, "She doesn't have certification of anything relating to rescue services."

Dad stays calm, "If I go, she goes."

He smirks, "Then you can't enter either."

I can tell Dad is losing his temper little by little. He responds, "I thought you were glad for me to be of service…"

"Not if she's with you."

I interrupt because my temper is being lost at a lot quicker rate than Dad's. I beg, "Can you please just let us in. My girlfriend is in there and she's waiting for me to save her."

He sarcastically rude, "Honey, odds are your little girlfriend of yours is dead by now."

I've completely lost my temper and Dad immediately sees it. I jump towards Stevens to attack him, but Dad grabs a hold of me first. As Dad holds me back, I try my hardest to break away to just beat the living daylights out of this guy. I yell, "You know what? They should call you by your nickname! And then you can say, 'Officer Dick Stevens, reporting for duty' you prick."

Dad yells, "Enough Spencer. Let's just go." He pulls my body around to guide me down the street.

Stevens yells, "You're lucky I don't arrest your crazed daughter because of harassment!"

I hear Ashley's voice scream, "Come back!"

My heart jumps up when I hear that. Ashley is calling me. I turn around and dart back towards the rubble. I run right through the guards and into the destroyed buildings. I don't care who yells at me to get back—I'm running and I'm not stopping until I see Ashley.

I run right on top of a big piece of the building and continue on running from piece to piece. I scream, "Ashley!" I slow down my footsteps. I step down onto another piece and look down into the dark abyss. "Ashley!" I mutter under my breath, "Come on I know you're here just give me a sign."

I step onto an unstable piece, making it drop, causing my body to fall into the dark and gloomy hole.

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The fall wasn't too far, but it was a considerable drop. I land on my feet, but I drop to my knees and my body tumbles a little bit.

I finally land on my back and stay there. I'm trying to catch my breath as best as I can. The dust particles and debris are making it nearly impossible to breath.

Suddenly, an enormous piece of the rubble crashes down towards me, hindering me from being able to move. I struggle as I sadly attempt to move the thing just a smidge so I can squeeze my way out, but I'm not succeeding. I let out a big huff of air before I try again.

I push as hard as I can that my face is probably as red as my shirt. I give up before I rupture something in my brain because that would be just my luck for that to happen.

I see the bright light beaming down on me. I use all my upper strength to scream, "Help! Someone!" I barely finish the last syllable because I begin to cough from all of the debris in my mouth. I turn my head to the side and spit out a good portion of the dust particles out of my mouth.

I hear an eerie sound towards the left of me. I keep as quiet as I can to see if I hear it again. I wait a few seconds and then I get a broken up voice, "Spencer?"

I turn my neck as far as I can to the left to get a view of the person calling my name. Her skin is white—not pale—due to all of the dust particles lying on her head. Her eyes look like they're extremely heavy so I can barely make out her eyes, but I can make out her luscious curls. I quickly ask aloud, "Ashley?!"

She breathes out, "Spencer, help me."

Hearing her wounded voice sends a signal to my brain to do whatever I can to squeeze out of here. I try and I try, but I can't succeed. Nothing I do even makes a slight difference. I say, "Ashley, I can't move." I scream out into the sky, hoping for someone's shadow to step in and block the brightness from my eyes, "Help! Somebody! Down here!" I let out another groan after pushing even harder than the last time. "Ashley?"

An utter extracts from her lips, "Yea?"

I say to keep her alert, "They're going to be here. In a few minutes they'll find us and we'll be outta here."

She replies calmly, "Okay." I don't know what kind of state she's in, but I can tell that if she doesn't get help soon, she won't make it. It's such an effort for her to say a few words because she's struggling for air. The mass on her body is crushing her body. I don't know how she survived that, but at least she can be saved. I look up into the sky as Ashley asks, "Why are you in New York?"

I look at her and respond, "Because I knew you were still alive. I just needed to find you."

Ashley uses all the strength she has to "scold" me. She says, "Why would you do a stupid thing like that? Look at what it got you into."

I say sincerely, "I got to see your face and hear your voice again. That's all that matters to me. My heart can beat another day."

Ashley gives me the biggest smile she can, considering her condition. She reaches out her right hand for me to hold it. I very willingly take her hand into mine and lace my fingers into her hand. I can feel through her weak grip that I'm going to be the one holding the two hands together as we wait patiently for rescue to arrive.

***

At least a good five minutes go by and we're still waiting. I'm looking up at the beautiful sky, wondering how, on such a beautiful day like yesterday, someone would think of killing so many innocent people's lives. I can't even wrap my head around that. And what's worse is the thought of what's going to happen next. What if we're attacked again? I can't think about this right now. It will just make me more upset.

I let out a breath of air as fresh air creeps through the cracks from the outside world. The dust particles and whatnot are still invading my lungs, but help should be here any moment, I hope.

I still have Ashley's hand in mine as I caress it with my thumb like I always used to. I stare at the clear, blue sky as I begin to talk, "Ash, I'm so sorry for everything. I'm sorry I said all of those things. I didn't mean them. When I said I didn't love you, I was lying—right through my teeth. I didn't want to be in any more pain than I was going to be when you moved to New York. I thought that by breaking up with you, it was going to make it easier for me to let you go, but it only made it harder. I felt so terrible that I caused you that pain. I was a—for lack of a better term—bitch to you. You didn't deserve it. _You'll never _deserve to be treated that way. No matter how annoying you may get sometimes." I chuckle lightly to myself. I say clearly, "I love you, Ashley."

I hear everything around me, except a particular voice, replying back. I hear all of the machines running and roaming around the area. Firemen and policemen are shouting out orders to each other. I even hear the rats crawling throughout the building's remains. But I don't hear Ashley's voice.

I keep my head, looking straight out into the sky as I ask, "Ash?"

I get no reply again.

I turn my head to look over at Ashley. Her eyes are sealed shut along with her mouth. Her head is dipped down towards her shoulder. I gently shake her hand to get her attention. I say, "Aaash."

There is still no reply.

I shake her hand a little more rapidly, but unfortunately get no response. Her body lies there, motionless and seemingly lifeless.

I say over and over again, "No. No. No!" I cry out in desperation, "Ashley! Wake up! Please." I pause and let a couple seconds go by. "No, Ashley. Wake up. Wake up. I'm so sorry. I'm s-"

Streams of endless tears flow out of my eyes. My voice breaks, "I love you, Ashley." I bend my neck down and kiss her hand goodbye.

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_I wake up, screaming, "Ashley! Where is she!" I'm hysterical and my arms are flailing, trying to break free from the wires on my body. I see a doctor outside of the room, talking to the same tall guy from before. The one who said he's my husband. I scream at the top of my lungs, "Hey! Get me out of here! Help!" _

_I get their attention within a few seconds and they race into the room, trying to hold me down with all of their strength. My "husband" speaks, "Calm down, Spencer. Please." _

_I refuse his orders, "No! Where is Ashley? Where is she!" _

_The male doctor speaks, "Mrs. Dennison, if you don't calm down, you're going to leave me no choice, but to drug you."_

_I become even feistier, if that's even possible. I say, "You think I'm afraid? I'm not. Now just get me out of here before I sue your ass."_

_I use all of the strength I have in my body as soon as I see the doctor take out a needle, filled with some sort of tranquilizer. He sticks the sharp thing into my body and before I know it, I'm knocked out. _

_***_

_I wake up in a much calmer state than before. I open my eyes, but then quickly shut them when I see the same two male figures in front of me, talking yet again. I keep an open ear out to listen to what they're saying. _

_I'm assuming it's my "husband" speaking first. He says, "This is an annual thing. It's been this way ever since I've known her. I even tried moving her out of there quite a while ago, hoping it wasn't going to happen again, but I was wrong. And every single time it happens, she wakes up, screaming out the same name, but when I ask her about it, she keeps silent."_

_The doctor speaks, "Well, there is no sign of brain damage in the fall so I can't say it's from that. I think it would be best to send her to a therapist, if you don't mind." _

_My husband speaks, "Yes. That's fine with me as long as she gets better. It's killing me not knowing what's wrong." _

_Really? It's killing you? Well, it's killing me not knowing where the hell my Ashley is, but that's the way things are. _

_I let a few seconds go by of silence before I pretend like I just woke up. I squirm in the bed a little and stretch my arms out to make it realistic. I slowly open my eyes to the two of them staring me down. My husband walks towards me in a concerned way and asks, "Spencer? Is everything alright?"_

_My brain creates a quick slideshow in my head of clips of the past; starting from after I was rescued from the rubble. After it runs through the whole thing, I realize where I am and where Ashley is. The thing that makes me sick the most, is the fact that Ashley didn't show up as a clip of my past other than seeing casket being lowered into the ground. She will never show up in _that_ slideshow, but not a day will go by where I don't remember her or what she was to me—what she _is_ to me. _

_I hesitantly answer Aiden, "Yes, I'm fine, but I think there's something I should tell you."_

_Aiden looks up at the doctor and asks kindly, "Could you excuse us for a moment?" _

_The doctor pleasantly excuses himself from the room so that I can tell my story. I clear my throat and then begin to talk, "About thirty-seven years ago, I met this girl, Ashley Davies…" _

Fifteen minutes later

_I finished up my story and that was the end of it. I wasn't ordered to see a therapist or even kept for the night in the hospital._

_I never told him about Ashley before because up until this day, I couldn't talk about her without balling my eyes out. Well, I wasn't able to hold the tears back anyway, but I still had to tell him. He sits there now, looking like a truck had hit him or something. Well, I don't think I would look to well if the person I was married to told me they fell head-over-heels in love with someone and they haven't left their mind since. But after I said that, I told him the reason why I married him was because for some reason, I saw a little bit of Ashley in him. I don't know what it was, but I did. And I figured if I married him, I could see her everyday, without actually seeing her. That sounds crazy, but it sounded better when it first entered my mind. But "seeing" a small pigment of her personality in Aiden is what makes me wake up every morning. But of course, that only made him even sadder because he thinks I didn't marry him for him. But maybe he's right. Maybe I only married him because he reminded me of Ashley…_

_Let's not think about that right now. I want to get home. _

_***_

_The doctor didn't let me leave when I preferred, but a few hours later, but whatever. I'm home now. _

_Aiden goes straight into the kitchen to make something for the both of us. I walk upstairs and go to the only place that makes me feel at home. _

_I throw my jacket onto the bed and walk into the walk-in closet. I go into the far left corner of the closet and dig to the very bottom of the pile of things. I extract a rather large box from the pile and walk it over to the bed. I haven't taken this box out in years—decades, even. There is a nice thin coat of dust on the top of it. I sweep the white dust with my hand, off of the container. I slowly open the flaps of the box to reveal the belongings. _

_The first thing I remove is Ashley's mix album she gave me before she left for New York. Along with the CD, I take out the CD player. I pop open the CD case and play the disk into the player. I put on the headphones and hesitantly press play. _

_I hear the soothing sounds of Ashley's voice in my ears. I haven't heard her voice on CD in years. I only hear her in my dreams, comforting me when I experience a bad night. As the music plays in my ears, I rummage through the rest of the things in there, reminiscing Ashley's presence. _

_I pull out one of Ashley's old black sweaters and examine it for a little while. I put the sweater against my face and inhale deeply. Her scent is still implanted on it. It's amazing. I unhook the music from my ears to slip on the sweater. Then I quickly put the music back into my ears to silence my reality. _

_I walk over to the other side of the bed and climb into the bed. I curl up into somewhat of a fetal position and snuggle the CD player in my chest. I quickly, but gently place the player onto the bed to put my hand against my heart. I can feel it beating again. It's been beating my whole life, but about a month after Ashley's death, I was diagnosed with an abnormal heartbeat—a slower than normal heartbeat. The doctors said it was because of ingesting so much debris from falling into the rubble that it affected my heart directly, so they quickly put me on medication to help get my heart back to normal. Those dimwits weren't right about their diagnosis, so because my slower heartbeat wasn't caused by 9/11, I got the terrible side affects from the meds. I stopped taking them after that. _

_I'm no doctor, but I know exactly why my heartbeat isn't in sync with most peoples. Right after 9/11 and watching Ashley die right in front of my eyes, I died a little as well. She was my life and when she was taken from me, I was never the same—I'm still not the same and I probably never will be, as long as I'm away from her. _

_Yes, anyone in their right minds wouldn't believe me, but that's just the way it is. I can't change it—no one can. _

_I haven't felt my heartbeat at a normal pace in a very very long time. It feels good. It feels like she's with me._

_The song ends in the player and I hear the CD moving to the next track. I close my eyes as I squirm in towards the middle of the bed. My body becomes really calm to the sound of Ashley's voice. It's always been that way, but now I regret not going through this stuff earlier. _

_The new song begins and once again, I feel Ashley's arms wrap around my stomach. I slowly pull my headphones from my ears and gently place them down on the bed. I lay my arm on top of hers and listen to her speak. She says in a sly tone, "Hey gorgeous." _

_I haven't felt her presence in God knows how long. I wonder how long she'll stay. _

_I can't stop the tears from flowing when I say, "I miss you so much Ashley." _

_She caresses my arm as she says, "We'll be together again." _

_I sniffle, louder than I expected, "No we're not. We're never gonna be together again. It's like you went to New York again, but never returned." _

_Ashley uses her sweet voice and assures, "I'm certain we'll be together again. You just have to have a little faith in me." _

_I say, "I hope it's soon because I don't know how long I can take this pain." _

_She says, "Don't worry. I'll be seeing you soon."_

_I flip over my body and ask, "You promise?" Ashley's body vanishes slowly in front of my eyes as she blows a kiss to me. She becomes nothing more than a pigment of my imagination within a few seconds. _

_I try to stay as calm as I can, considering I had Ashley taken away from me once again, but I fail to do that even. My eyes quickly like Niagara falls and my pillow is soaked with tears with a matter of a couple minutes. _

_I lose so much energy from crying that all I have to do is close my eyes and I fall asleep. _

_***_

_I wake up from the commotion, but not in_ my _bed. I wake up in Ashley's bed—in her old apartment in New York. I look around and the whole place has a white tint to it. I say loud enough to the point where it's not considered screaming, "Ashley?" _

_Ashley walks out of the bedroom with a huge grin on her face, "It's about time you got here."_

_I look at her with a confused face. I ask, "Whaddaya mean?" _

_She says in a sly tone, "I've been waiting for you for so long." _

_I ponder that statement. I ask, "Wait, are we where I think we are?"_

_Ashley smiles and nods at me. _

_I say, "That would explain it." _

_Now she has the confused look when she asks, "Explains what?" _

_I smile and say, "Why I feel my heart's beat syncing with yours."_


End file.
